


Lathered Up

by Morgana



Series: Shaving Wars [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shaving, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All war is a symptom of man's failure as a thinking animal. - John Steinbeck</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lathered Up

_Did you shave a certain someone in his sleep last night?_

Shit. Stiles stared down at the screen for a long minute before he replied, _Maybe?_

_Seriously, Stiles?_ And okay, so maybe he’d overestimated just how funny the whole thing would be. That, or he’d underestimated his best friend’s sense of humor, but since Scott was made of awesome, he thought that somehow the first option was the correct one.

_There may or may not have been a decent amount of tequila involved_. And yeah, he knew that was a sucky-ass excuse, but it was the closest thing to a defense that he could come up with. Not that it was going to matter once he got home. If he ever decided to go home, that was.

He thought briefly about moving into the library, just living in the stacks like a broke, hungover college student version of the Phantom, but he knew better than to think he’d get away with it. When just about everyone in your frat had freakily enhanced supernatural senses, you quickly learned how little you could slip past them. And even if he silenced his phone, Scott would just sniff him out in a humiliatingly short time, then give him that look that made hiding from his best friend rank right up there on the evildoers’ list with kicking puppies.

The same kind of look he was probably giving his phone right now, actually. _I thought you said you were going to study last night_.

Stiles had meant to study, he really had, but when Lydia Martin texted to see if he was joining Delta Ep for their CW night, he _couldn’t_ say no. He was practically an honorary sister, even if Lydia insisted on calling him a mascot. Either way, it had been a command invitation that he wasn’t able to turn down - not that it had taken much arm-twisting to get him to spend his night surrounded by beautiful women who shared his appreciation of hot, shirtless guys. And okay, so Truth or Dare might not have been the best idea, especially after yet another Supernatural drinking game had seen the tequila flowing a little freer than it usually did. But hey, you were only young once, right?

Really, it had ended up being a truly epic night.

Somehow he thought it was better not to tell Scott that just now, so instead he opted for shading the truth a little, especially since Scott wasn’t there to listen to his heartbeat. _I finished up early, went over to DE to hang out for Shirtless Weds_.

For several minutes his phone stayed silent, as though Scott was trying to figure it all out before he apparently gave up and asked, _So how did that lead to you shaving Derek? Or do I even want to know?_

_Not really_. Especially since Stiles was only about 70% sure of how it had all worked out, himself. He remembered doing shots, remembered doing a drunken striptease to the waist, and then it was kind of fuzzy until he was back in the frat house in front of a sleeping Derek. _That_ he remembered with blissful clarity, just like he remembered how hard he’d been by the time he finished.

He just wasn’t exactly sure _why_ he’d thought shaving Derek was absolutely imperative. Not that he really cared, since it had meant getting his hands all over that warm, honey-colored skin. Honestly, he’d have thought Derek would've woken up before he even finished getting the shaving gel on him, but he’d barely moved, just snorted a little bit, then calmed right down as soon as Stiles shushed him. And even then Stiles might not have actually gone through with it, but he’d been lost with the first pass of the razor, hypnotized by the slow glide of it across those mouth-watering muscles, dazed by the even more delicious-looking skin that was revealed with every stroke.

It just wasn’t _fair_. Derek had to go and be all studly macho Alpha werewolf with his supernatural hotness and brooding mystique, but when he’d looked down at him after he was done, Stiles had wanted nothing more than to climb in bed with him and freaking _snuggle_. Because for all his surly attitudes and bad-boy persona, the truth was that Derek was _nice_ and that was Stiles’ One True Weakness when it came to hot guys. And when he’d seen Derek flash eyes and growl at the kids that didn’t seem to know that Greek Row wasn’t good trick-or-treating ground, Stiles was a goner. Not only had Derek been ready for them with a whole bag full of candy (and yeah, you bet your ass Stiles had helped himself to several handfuls when Derek wasn’t paying attention) but he’d done the one thing that made him beyond cool - he’d scared the pants off the rugrats.

Still, it wasn’t like he was expecting his crush to actually go anywhere. Besides being a senior and hot enough to give pale twerps like Stiles second degree sunburns, Derek was straight. The girls that paraded in and out of the house attested to that. The guy played the field, but as hot as the girls were, Stiles couldn’t blame him. He’d had more than a few X-rated fantasies about the blonde, and probably would’ve included one (or both) of the brunettes as well, if they didn’t look like they would somehow know about it and promptly demand his balls for breakfast. Seeing as how he liked his balls right where they were, Stiles had put Derek on the Don’t Even Think About It list right along with Lydia, the blonde, Chris Evans, and both Hemsworth brothers, but apparently last night he’d been drunk enough to forget about the list (and the brunettes), because he’d barely managed to keep himself from leaning down to find out if Derek tasted as good as he’d looked.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that a crush was anything at all like an excuse for last night. He guessed he could just plead temporary insanity and throw himself on Derek’s mercy, but he wasn’t sure that Derek really had any. In the end, it was probably best to hope Scott’s puppy eyes would prove just as effective with Derek and the rest of their brothers as they always had with everyone but their parents. _How about I stay here for a while and you tell me when I can come home?_

_That works_.

Stiles sighed, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and settled back down into his chair, determined not to move until he had a firm grasp of cosmic eras, right down to the decimal points. His stomach started growling somewhere around the second hour, but he ignored it. If he got up, he’d end up texting Scott to meet him at El Pollo Loco or begging Lydia to let him come over for margaritas, neither of which would really be much help with the whole reforming thing.

Thankfully, before he had to start filling out change of address forms, his phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Scott’s name on the display. _Come back, Stiles. There won’t be any bloodshed_.

Derek! That was Derek, and he didn’t hate him! Stiles hurried to pack up, his mouth already watering as he thought about the super jumbo supreme he was absolutely going to order. Then his phone went off again. _But there will be payback_.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.


End file.
